


sacrifices one makes to be a murderer

by lyrolis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Humor, M/M, Murder, My First Fanfic, On Hiatus, Slow Burn, The Golden Trio, Triwizard Tournament, as in theyre just friends for a looooong while, be warned i really hate snape, but i love the rest of the slytherin crew, no crabbe or goyle bc theyre boring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrolis/pseuds/lyrolis
Summary: “Look, if you’re so set on killing Potter, stop telling everyone and their mum about it, honestly,” he advised, sounding bored. “Are you a Slytherin or not? Befriend him. Learn what makes him tick. Sleepover in the Gryffindor dorms and kill him while he’s asleep.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfic! yay! but what's that you're asking? why I would I start with a multi-chaptered, only somewhat planned fic instead of a short oneshot? very ambitious, but not very wise? ah well, no wonder I'm in slytherin not ravenclaw.
> 
> ❧ indicates POV change, its pretty obvious but just wanted to let y'all know

“I,” Draco Malfoy declared to the entirety of the Slytherin common room. “Am going to kill Potter if it’s the last thing I do.”  
  
Other than a few admiring looks from the new first years, he was met with mostly bored glances, despite the obvious plea for an ally in his rage against Harry Potter. Finally, Blaise Zabini, fellow fourth year, rolled his eyes.  
  
“Look, if you’re so set on killing Potter, stop telling everyone and their mum about it, honestly,” he advised, sounding bored. “Are you a Slytherin or not? Befriend him. Learn what makes him tick. Sleepover in the Gryffindor dorms and kill him while he’s asleep.”  
  
“Hmm…” Draco said sarcastically, raising his pale eyebrows. “That’s actually not so bad of an idea… Merlin, Zabini, if you really think I could stand him long enough to fake a friendship, I don’t know what you think my motive for murder is!” Blaise muttered something about winning the house cup for once, and Draco sighed. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, striding towards the staircases that led to the boy’s dormitories.

❧

Harry was doing his best to ignore Ron’s frustrated mutterings, and just finish his potion, a poison antidote. This was proving difficult, however, as each time Harry peered down to try and understand the densely-written textbook, Ron would continue ranting about the events of the previous day, effectively distracting Harry from the task at hand.  
  
“Godric’s pants, I can’t believe McGonagall took 50 points for that! 50! And we were defending younger students, from our own house! Her own house! Harry honestly, though, that stinging hex was spot on, best you’ve done yet. Merlin, I sound like Hermione now, but it really was brilliant. Malfoy’s screaming sounded like Ginny when Fred and George trapped a boggart in her trunk last summer…” The redhead continued along the same vein, and Harry nonchalantly put his hands over his ears.  
  
Ron smacked him. “Listen to me, you git! Anyway, poor Colin and Dennis, I don’t know what they did to deserve that, and I wouldn’t care if we lost 100 points for it, house cup be damned. It’s bloody wrong, Malfoy and his cronies ganging up on them, even if they are annoying little prats.” Harry tuned Ron out again, glancing around the steam filled dungeon for Professor Snape before the greasy haired man could take even more points for Ron’s incessant chatter.  
  
Snape, luckily, was too occupied congratulating Malfoy on his antidote, which he had apparently completed up to the steps they were assigned to work on that lesson. Snape, biased as always, told Malfoy to make up a second batch for extra credit and yet more points for Slytherin before sweeping silently past Hermione’s equally flawless potion. Hermione’s gaze locked with Harry’s, and she rolled her eyes so far back that Harry imagined they might see straight through the dark cloud of a ponytail on the back of her head. He shot a glare at Snape as the professor continued past Harry and Ron’s cauldrons.  
  
As soon as Snape was out of earshot, Ron continued on his tirade, and Hermione gave Harry a pitying look as he once again tried to decipher the complex instructions in his potions textbook. Harry glanced at her, then cursed under his breath as he saw Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson all staring at Ron, the first of the Slytherins on the verge of standing and walking to where Harry and Ron sat by their respective cauldrons.  
  
“Ron…” he cautioned, but Ron continued.  
  
“Bloody Malfoy, I’m surprised he can sit down, he’s got his wand so far up his pureblooded arse,” the redhead grumbled.  
  
“Ah, but I’m not sitting, Weasley,” said pureblood replies. Draco had walked across the dungeons, unheeded by the ever-biased Snape, and his platinum blond brows disappearing into his slicked-back hair. “Funny, though, I thought a Gryffindor would at least have the nerve to diss me to my face.”  
  
Ron, flushed with anger, stood too, and Harry, the only one still on his wooden stool, rose as well to be on eye level with the rest of the crowd. “Malfoy, get back to your extra credit,” Harry said. “Unless you’re Gryffindor enough that you’re about to start a fight even you have nothing to gain from it.” Draco was nearly foaming at the mouth, and either not seeing the irony in his actions, or not caring, he pulled his wand out of his robes.  
  
“Expulso!” he shouted, just as Hermione hurried over the group, wand out.  
  
“Protego!” she called, shielding the crowd of Gryffindors from Malfoy’s attempted curse.  
  
Snape’s head whipped around, and Harry, though worried, had to restrain a laugh as grease seemed to fly off the teacher's hair with the movement.  
  
Draco yelled out another spell, and this time Harry exclaimed “Protego!” This time, however, his spell ricocheted off the magical shield, and Harry’s ears were filled with the tinkling sound of shattering glass. He slowly turned to see the remains of the seventh year potions cabinet surrounded by silvery glass shards and a great quantity of spilt smoking liquid. Lavender Brown was shrieking, seemingly frozen in place as the substance ate away the leather of shoes.  
  
Snape syphoned the mess away with a wave of his wand. “Enough! Patil, take Miss Brown to the hospital wing. Malfoy, Potter, that’ll be fifty points each, and detention for all of you,” he commanded, giving the latter punishment to all seven students, who were still staring at each other antagonistically. “Return to your seats. You have the remaining thirty minutes to complete the first steps of your antidotes. In silence.”

  


“Cassandra on a cracker, I can’t believe he took another 50 points,” Ron bemoaned, having surpassed outrage and entered a gloomier mood.  
  
“Erm.” Harry asked, stopping in his tracks. “What. What did you say?”  
  
“Professor Snape, the potions master. Took 50 points from you for ‘duelling in class,’ because you put up a shield charm so we wouldn’t be blasted into the wall. Ring any bells?” Ron questioned, seeming confused.  
  
“No. Cassandra,” Harry clarified. “On a cracker?”  
  
“Like Christ on a cracker, Harry,” Hermione said breezily, pulling him and Ron out of the way of the rest of the class trying to shove past them in the corridor. Harry, who still didn’t understand the phrase, hurried along behind her.

❧

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy were studying theory for banishing charms in the Slytherin common room when Professor Snape strode in.  
  
“Malfoy, your detention will be with Professor McGonagall tomorrow night at 7:30, in her office. She has requested that you bring all Transfiguration work from the past two weeks. Zabini, Parkinson, you will be meeting Mr Filch at the same time, in the Muggle Studies classroom, where, he wishes you to know, you will be scrubbing the remains of the microwaves from the floor and walls without the use of magic. I hope this is a lesson to you,” he admonished, and with that, he spun dramatically and paraded back to his office.

  


At 7:20 the following evening, Draco set down yet more charms homework and gathered the leaves of parchment that McGonagall had ordered he bring to detention. No doubt she would make him revise for hours since Transfiguration was the other class fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors shared, and therefore he spent the majority of the class glaring at Potter instead of practising spells.  
  
Bag over his shoulder, he began the first of many flights of stairs towards McGonagall’s office at the top of Gryffindor tower. He didn’t especially mind Transfiguration, he had rather enjoyed the class the past three years, but the injustice of his detention infuriated him. Professor Snape, his favourite teacher, his _mentor_ , had to understand that he had been provoked by that idiot Weasley! Draco most certainly did not have his wand up his arse, he just had basic manners and decorum. He continued to condemn Snape’s logic until he found himself at the door of McGonagall’s office. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the only one.  
  
“Malfoy.” Harry’s face was the same mix of shock and anger that Draco felt.  
  
“Potter,” he growled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone has detention. harry learns transfiguration. no one can say microwave.

“God, Ron, take your time please!” Hermione called sarcastically through the open portrait hole. It was 7:28, and she wouldn’t like to see what Filch would do to them if they were late. Finally, the redhead stepped one long leg into the corridor and clambered out of the Gryffindor common room, looking both dejected and self-righteous about the detentions that he and the waiting Hermione were about to face.

The trio dashed through the castle (well, Neville dashed, Hermione executed a tense power walk, and Ron yelled for them to slow up, despite his superior leg length,) until they arrived at the muggle studies classroom.

“What happened, anyway?” Ron asked. “McGonagall said something about a Nicroway, what’s that?”

“A Microwave, Ron, honestly,” Hermione admonished. “You should be taking Muggle Studies, it’s ever so important to know these things. It’s like a small oven, to heat up food.” Hermione and Ron were now standing very close, though not face to face as Hermione only came up to his neck. Neville stood awkwardly beside them, gesturing as if to ask if he should open the door. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed as they were quite focused on each other.

“Alright, Hermione, you know I can’t change my schedule now, stop griping about it. What did you do to the Nicrowaves? Are they meant to be on the walls?” 

“No Ron, and you would know if you took the class! If you must know, Professor Burbage only assigned 8 inches of Parchment for homework a bit ago, and I was really disappointed about it. So, er, when she told us to try microwaving different things, including spoons, well, I let her carry on.” Hermione was now very pink. Ron was looking quite confused.

“Alright, so the spoons got quite hot then. Or they melted!” Ron theorized.

“No, no, Ron,” Hermione seemed oblivious to the stares of Filch, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini through the now open door to the classroom. “You can’t put metal in a Microwave, it blows up! It’s, well it's some science thing that muggles just have to put up with…” She trailed off as Filch beckons them in, smiling nastily.  
“Fascinating as that Muggle lesson was, Granger, you all are here for a different Muggle lesson. You are to scrub this classroom, floor to ceiling. No magic.”

 

❧

 

Professor McGonagall chose this exact moment to open the door to her office.

“Ah, a minute early, gentlemen.” She smiled in a way that Harry thought looked a bit odd. “Always pays to be prompt, I suppose.” As she ushered them into her spacious office, she waved her wand, enlarging her desk enough to fit Harry, Malfoy, and their stacks of parchment and half-transfigured objects.

“As I’m sure you know, you are both rather behind in my class,” the professor began. “There is no good explanation for this, as you have both done well in the past three years. Tonight, I would like you to review all the material we’ve covered this year--no need to look so scared, Potter, it’s only been three weeks--and I will assist you with anything that you may have not comprehended, for whatever reason. Do try to do it quietly, though, as I have 648 inches of essays to grade. Though I daresay some will be a bit short,” she continued muttering about the inadequacies of her third-year class as she returned to her seat behind the extended desk. Harry dragged his chair as far from Malfoy as he could, hoping the other boy would take the hint. He did, scraping his own wooden chair legs across the floor to the opposite side of the large desk. Both students sat and got to work on the materials they had neglected for all of term in favour of pestering one another.

 

After about half an hour of struggling to turn his hedgehog to a pincushion, Harry lightly slammed his head into the hard desktop and gave himself a little shake. He snuck a glance at Malfoy, who had already turned his hedgehog to a neat tomato pincushion, complete with a small strawberry attached by a green string, and had moved on to transfiguring a guinea fowl to a guinea pig. Harry could almost see a conflict in the Slytherin’s silver eyes before he spoke.

“Need a hand, Potter?” Draco asked, not kindly, but perhaps not as sneeringly as usual. “It helps me to think about the similarities and differences in them,” he continued. “Emphasise what needs to stay, then add in the other details.”

Harry stared at him. “Malfoy. Go back to your guinea fowl.” Of course, it was no longer a guinea fowl, as Malfoy had already succeeded in turning it to a guinea pig. Just Harry’s luck.

Nevertheless, he followed the advice, because he had nothing else to do, and what was the worst that could happen? After another minute, to both his delight and annoyance, Harry was staring at a flawless patchwork pincushion.

 

❧

 

“It really is lovely,” Neville complained to Ron and Hermione. “That we’re in detention on the third week of term.”

“Don’t blame me, mate,” Ron said, despite it arguably being his fault that the duel took place. “I have that whole chart due for divination first thing tomorrow, and all I’ve done is predicted I’ll get blisters on my hands from this bloody detention.” Neville and Hermione both rolled their eyes. The assignment had been given over a week ago, which Neville knew because he was in the class and Hermione knew because she was Ron’s homework planner incarnate. 

Neville applied another spray of Windex to the rough stone floor, attempting to wipe away the black, sooty remains of the... what was it called? The micowaze! out of the crevices in the rock. 

“As much as I would love to blame you for this, Ron, I think the real issue is Harry.” Hermione assessed. “He’s always obsessing over Malfoy. And as much as I hate him,” she shot a glare at Parkinson and Zabini, scrubbing on the other side of the classroom. “I think Harry needs to calm down about it. Really, his marks aren’t as good as they used to be. Oh, shut it, Ron.” 

Ron had let out an exasperated groan. “Come off it, Hermione. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that Harry isn’t focusing on the most important thing at the moment.”

“And what’s this, that’s more important than his schoolwork?”

“Hermione, really,” Neville finally interjected. “The tournament!”

Ron nodded at Neville. “Harry said he’d find a way to enter us when Dumbledore announced it at the feast, though you might have been so excited that we were starting lessons the next day that you couldn’t pay any of us any attention.”

“He wouldn’t,” Hermione fretted. He would, Neville thought.

“That’s the issue, though,” Ron explained. “He won’t if he keeps obsessing over Malfoy the way he’s been. I mean, he may be a Slytherin, but he’s only our age. He can’t be doing anything that evil.”

“Ha!” Neville heard Pansy Parkinson say. “Evilest thing Draco does is stalk Potter to see if he’s ‘up to something.’” Blaise Zabini let out a laugh that could only be described as a cackle.

“Something funny, Zabini?” inquired Ron, antagonistic as ever. 

“Nothing, nothing,” mumbled the still-laughing Slytherin. “Only, really, Draco and Potter need to let off each other a bit.”

“Draco’s nearly failing Potions!” giggled Pansy. “Potions! I think he’s the first Slytherin not to have an O in Potions under Snape, and we have Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Neville choked on a laugh as Hermione began to despair for Harry’s Potions grade. “He’s not even got the house advantage, and he was never a natural at Potions, you know,” she bemoaned, burying her face in the closest shoulder, which belonged to Ron. He didn’t look unhappy with the situation.

Blaise continued, “Theo nearly cried when he heard he missed their little ‘duel,’ he was ill yesterday, he’s the one who really finds it hysterical.

“Anyway,” Blaise went on. “I’m sure McGonagall’s having a grand time trying to keep the two of them from killing each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thats Chapter two done! I think I'll try to post weekly-ish. We'll see how it goes.
> 
> I did copious pincushion research despite being pretty familiar with sewing and therefore pincushions. Does anyone actually use pincushions that aren't the tomato-strawberry sort? Anyway, I wanted a bit of variety. Here are my inspirations/a mental image for y'all:  
> Draco's: https://www.joann.com/dritz-tomato-pin-cushion-with-emery-strawberry/1040013.html  
> Harry's: http://www.madforfabric.com/2015/10/31/diy-pincushion-tutorial-with-free-pattern/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> banishing charms, multi-day potions... on that Hogwarts grind!!

“Salazar!” Draco overheard Pansy curse. “I really lost it that time!” 

He wonders what she’s talking about, but he’s not curious enough to pause and inquire about it on his way to his dormitory.

 

❧

 

Pansy continues, “I was just dying, I can’t believe Harry is really just as bad as Draco,” she snickered. “Poor us, and, I’ll admit, poor Gryffindors. I swear, they’re taking their little rivalry too far. The Slytherin-Gryffindor feud is so old news, I don’t think anyone’s really taken it seriously since the war with Voldemort ended thirteen years ago!” She collapsed in fake distress on Blaise’s shoulder. Sitting across from them, Theodore Nott smirked.

“Please, their little feud is just a bad case of UST,” he asserted. At the confusion on his friends' faces, his smug look intensified. “Oh don’t worry about what it means. You’ll see soon enough.”

 

❧

 

“Try again, Potter!” Professor Flitwick commanded. They had finally completed all of the charms theory assignments for the time being, but in Harry’s opinion attempting the actual banishing charm wasn’t much better. 

He attempted the spell again, trying to send the cushion they were using as practice across the classroom. Instead, his own bag sailed through the air, finally crashing against the rough stone wall with a small crunch, followed by a shower of liquid, Harry guessed it was his ink, and shards of glass. 

Professor Flitwick started, then immediately turned the liquid and glass to thin air and sent Harry’s bag back towards his seat. “More finesse, Potter,” the Professor admonished.

“Yes, sir, sorry Professor,” Harry apologized, before turning back to the cushion in front of him.

“Depulso!” Harry repeated the charm, and this time the cushion flew to the corner of the room, stacking haphazardly on the pile already accumulated there. 

Next to him, Hermione cast the spell perfectly for what seemed to be the hundredth time that lesson, her royal purple cushion landing exactly on top of her previous ones. Seeing the deficit of pillows caused by her enthusiasm, she called, “Accio!” and her stack of cushions zoomed towards her. 

“Nice one, ‘Mione,” Ron said, impressed. 

She blushed pink. “Thanks, Ron.”

Harry sat quietly next to them, making meaningful eye contact with Neville, who sat on their other side.

 

After Charms, Harry and his friends walked to Potions, a class which Harry was very much not anticipating. After the duel, as Snape called it, he had just completed the assigned steps for his potion in time to leave, and he had a feeling more time-consuming potions work was in store for today.

As they entered the dungeons, a few minutes early for class thanks to Hermione, Harry saw all of them prepare themselves for the torture that was potions class, thanks to Professor Snape. Why is he even a teacher? He wondered, for the millionth time. In his second year, he had asked the Headmaster the same question, and the man had simply said that Snape had spied for him during the war. Harry didn’t think that a military debt was a good excuse for a biased, bully of a teacher, especially since Snape was a talented Potioneer and could have easily found other employment, but it wasn’t in his power to change anything.

The four Gryffindors sat at their cauldrons, unpacking their half-finished potions from their bags. Harry shuffled through the contents, pushing aside parchment quills, and his bottle of ink. He stopped and examined the bottle again. It was the same ink that he thought had shattered in Charms earlier. He put it aside, still searching for his potion until he came to a dreadful realisation. The vial had been what smashed due to his clumsy banishing charm. He reluctantly stood to explain the situation to Snape, suddenly glad that Hermione insisted they arrive to class early.

“Sir,” he began worriedly. “I’m afraid the vial of potion I was working on last class, was, er, smashed when we were working on banishing in Charms class, I’m sorry Professor…” He stopped at Snape's disgusted look.

“Surely,” he sneered. “Professor Flitwick did not ask you to banish your potion.”

“No, sir, it was an accident, sir,” Harry said, remaining polite despite being both indignant and terrified by Snape’s tone, a skill he had gained from time spent with his aunt and uncle.

“Clumsy. Ten points from Gryffindor. Luckily for you, there are extra potion starters, but manage to be this idiotic again and I will fail you.” 

Harry made his way back to his cauldron, prepared to be humiliated as the rest of the class filed in from the damp corridor.

 

❧

 

“Mr Malfoy,” Draco’s ex-favourite professor and mentor summoned him to his desk at the front of the potions classroom. “I’m sure you recall your extra-credit potion started you brewed at the end of last class?” It was a rhetorical question, of course, he remembered. 

“Yes, sir,”

“Good, you will be giving one vial to another classmate who’s potion is, let us say, elsewhere. I would like you to work along this student, to ensure no more mistakes occur,” Snape ordered. “You will, of course, receive extra credit provided their work is acceptable, and you may have twenty points for Slytherin House for your generosity.”

Draco nodded, smiling, and returned to his seat. He noticed Pansy, Blaise, and Theo, who had apparently recovered from his cold. All three were looking at him, looking guilty but amused, and Draco recalled Pansy’s admittance of having ‘lost it’ earlier. He wondered absentmindedly if the other two had hidden her potion so she could use his, which was probably better. He didn’t note the delighted looks they kept exchanging as they watched a still-embarrassed Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a tad bit shorter, sorry! I just thought it was a good ending where it is atm

**Author's Note:**

> end of chap 1! this might update regularly. probably not.


End file.
